My first experience
with Mazeppa was a student production
of one scene by the University of Southern
California music school. It was the
hit of the season and everybody wondered
about this Tchaikovsky opera, but there
was no recording available in any medium,
so we were left unable to follow up
on our interest. After years of searching
I found a copy of the Melodiya recording
on LP, but the sound was bad monophonic
and the lack of the text prevented me
from developing a serious interest.

One cannot discuss
a performance of this particular opera
without justifying the opera itself.
For various reasons, and with the occasional
exception of Yevgeny Onyegin,
all Tchaikovsky’s operas are counted
as failures both musically and dramatically.
Not having the typical prejudices of
most opera critics, and most particularly
not worshipping at the shrines of the
soprano cult, I find it difficult to
understand why this opera is not, along
with Pikovaya Dama, counted among
the finest. The story is from an epic
poem by Pushkin, "Poltava"
set in the 1680s and about the seemingly
endless wars involving Poland, Sweden,
the Cossacks, and Russia. The libretto
by Viktor Burenin was commissioned by
the Tsar probably as a patriotic pageant
to demonstrate how futile and terrible
are opposition to the authority of the
Tsar. It’s a good libretto even in translation;
one is touched by the dramatic irony
when, immediately following the dungeon
scene, Mariya and Mazeppa sing repeatedly
of what "torture" is absence
of the beloved; and in the final scene,
the dying Andrey implores Mariya to
"wake up" from her madness
as she sings to him to him to "go
to sleep"—a lullaby. Act II Scene
2 where Mazeppa tricks Mariya into consenting
to the death of her father is masterfully
done, as is the following scene where
Mariya’s mother is able to make plain
to her daughter the horror of what is
to come, and Mariya’s acceptance of
her guilt begins to unravel her sanity.
It must be noted that, although it could
not be spoken on stage in 1884, like
Brunnhilde at the beginning of Götterdämmerung,
Mariya was already pregnant at the beginning
of this opera. That is why she can no
longer engage in the ritual flower dances
of the virginal maidens.

Ivan Stepanovich Mazeppa
(1644-1709) was the appointed governor
(Hetman) of the Russian province of
Ukraine, who intrigued with the Swedes
to secure independence for his people
and the Ukrainian throne for himself.
He joined the Swedes against Peter the
Great at the Battle of Poltava, but
the Russians were totally victorious
and Mazeppa fled to Moldavia and death.
Perhaps it is difficult for modern Westerners
to identify with these characters as
they switch their loyalties among the
ruling powers so easily as the fortunes
of war and the desire for survival keep
changing the stakes. In the midst of
this, the barely teen-aged Mariya Kochubey
falls into an Othello/Desdemona-like
affair with the elderly Mazeppa, so
we know right off no good can come of
this. The characters bemoan fate and
their inescapable destiny even as they
make freely, one by one, the choices
that lead them to their fall. The gradual
dramatic progression as we move from
what should be a happy betrothal to
universal disgrace, death and destruction
is brilliantly underscored by the music.
Right up to the end of act II, I would
be ready to insist that this is one
of the greatest operas ever written.
Act III opens with a terrific Tchaikovsky
tone poem describing the battle of Poltava
complete with his usual generous quotations
from Russian hymns, and a full marching
band playing on stage.

In this DVD, singing
and acting are exceptional in every
role. The staging is grand and realistic
with hundreds of costumed singing extras
on stage as required. The dancing in
the party scene is everything you could
hope for with wild leaps, spins and
jumps. The audience is very well behaved
with applause only after the ends of
the acts, and only a very occasional
discreet cough. Costumes, lighting,
and video direction are superb. One
particularly brilliant effect occurs
right at the end of Act II when Kochubey
is beheaded off stage left. As we hear
the axe fall, a red spotlight suddenly
comes on from the left as though the
blood of the martyrs had erupted in
flames from their bodies. As the red
light strikes Mariya, frozen with horror
at having watched as her father is killed,
her horrific grimace turns suddenly
to a wild grin as her mind snaps and
she falls to the ground in hysterical
laughter. We are probably also to infer
that the shock has caused her to miscarry
her unborn child, therefore at that
single moment she has, in her eyes,
and in the eyes of the Church, become
a double murderess. It took me ten minutes
to get my emotions under control before
I could go on with the opera.

The last scene of Act
III opens with one of those incredible
concatenations of coincidence which
Iris Murdoch employed at the end of
her novels to get every principal character
into one room. The opera then becomes
a sung dramatic dialogue with the orchestra
providing background support. In this
recording the emphasis is more on the
words of the drama, hence there is little
full voice singing in contrast to the
other recordings. Mazeppa and Andre
fight, Andre is shot, Mariya in white
robes enters caressing a bouquet of
flowers at her breast and singing to
it as to a child. Mazeppa tries to reach
out to her, but in her madness she does
not recognize him, and he flees without
her. Andre revives long enough to say
goodbye, but she does not hear him,
continuing to sing her lullaby to her
flower bouquet as the curtain falls.

This is the first time
I’ve had a chance to watch Gergiev conducting.
The charisma of the man, the brooding
air of intense male power, is utterly
overwhelming! In his decision to become
a great conductor, the world lost a
very great actor.

Järvi’s timings
are almost identical to Gergiev’s, 167
as opposed to 169 minutes (the DVD includes
5 minutes of curtain calls and credits).
Järvi’s Mazeppa, Sergei Lieferkus,
is a magnificent artist, however I prefer
Nicolai Putilin. One example of Putilin’s
artistry is at those times when Mazeppa
describes himself as an old man, he
will introduce into his declamation
the merest amount of waver to suggest
age, yet without in any way afflicting
the musicality of his tone or his diction.
Larissa Diadkova plays Lyubov, Mariya’s
mother, in both Järvi’s and Gergiev’s
recordings, but she is such a fine actress
that seeing as well as hearing her performance
greatly enhances one’s appreciation.
Viacheslav Luhanin as Orlik in the Gergiev
production has little to sing, but his
stage manner is so menacing and sinister
that he manages to steal every scene
he is in, and in this production it
is he, not Mazeppa, who shoots Andrey.
Gorchakova. Järvi’s Mariya, has
a renowned voice but Irina Loskutova
is singing in a real stage production,
singing for the audience not just for
the microphone, and the result is that
her interpretation is much more dramatic.
The same is true of the tenors; in Gergiev’s
stage production, Viktor Lutsiuk makes
a valid attempt to sound at least a
little bit like he really is dying when
he is supposed to be, yet never loses
his control or beauty of tone, whereas
in the studio production, Järvi’s
tenor Sergei Larin understandably tends
to strive for a beautiful, forward sound
at all times. In short, the Gergiev
has an advantage over the studio productions
just because it is a live production.

The stereo sound is
very clear and wide ranged, only slightly
compressed, and effectively presents
well the brilliant orchestral interludes,
during which we look very closely at
the orchestra players. It is remarkable
that six years after the breakup of
the Soviet Union, rampant individualism
has manifested as the orchestral players
display a variety of styles in hair
and dress — and play beautifully in
spite of having a camera in their face.

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